Irvin D. Yalom Quotes

Life is a predicament which precedes death.

There are only three events in a man's life; birth, life, and death; he is not conscious of being born, he dies in pain, and he forgets to live.

Birth and death; we all move between these two unknowns.

We come from a dark abyss, we end in a dark abyss, and we call the luminous interval life.

Death, thou art infinite; it is life is little.

Long life, and short, are by death made all one; for there is no long, nor short, to things that are no more.

What is our life but a succession of preludes to that unknown song whose first solemn note is sounded by death?

Life... It's a great and terrible and short and endless thing. None of us come out of it alive.

Birth was the death of him.

Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome.

And introduce an element of cynicism and darkness into it and just realize that we're all vulnerable. We are humans. There is a finite end to this life and we're all going to face it and a little silliness can help.

Life is hard. Then you die. Then they throw dirt in your face. Then the worms eat you. Be grateful it happens in that order.

If we don't know life, how can we know death?

Acquisition means life to miserable mortals.

I think that nothing teaches you more about life than death and dying.

I'm just observing the world. I was born into it, like you were, and then I found out there were some really disturbing aspects to being alive, like the fact that you weren't going to be alive forever - that bothered me.

Why should I ask the wise men: Whence is my beginning? I am busy with the thought: Where will be my end?

We do survive every moment, after all, except the last one.

It is living and ceasing to live that are imaginary solutions. Existence is elsewhere.

When you really deep down look at it, we go to bed every night, get up every morning, stay here for 70 or 80 years, and then we die.

Everything that gets born dies.

Death, like birth, is a secret of Nature.

Between our birth and death we may touch understanding, As a moth brushes a window with its wing.

Life and death are one thread, the same line viewed from different sides.

Death is the king of this world: 'Tis his park where he breeds life to feed him. Cries of pain are music for his banquet.